


Mad World

by CheesyJumpersandJam



Category: Hannibal (TV), Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Beverly Katz is the Best, Coercion, Dr. Frederick Chilton Being an Asshole, Hannibal is an Imperator, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Poor Jack, Slavery, Someone Help Will Graham, Warning: Immortan Joe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheesyJumpersandJam/pseuds/CheesyJumpersandJam
Summary: Mad Max + Hannibal UniverseA few screams erupted, the sounds of agony blossoming across the barren wasteland. Gruff shouting followed and then more ungodly silence.Jack quickly, but quietly, moved to where Will was frozen in place, both men daring not to breathe too loudly. Sound carried so far on the flat land. There was no telling what could be heard.Jack nearly pressed his lips to the shell of Will’s ear, sweat dripping down the side of his face. “If we start the car now, they’ll hear us. We have to hope they finish what they came here for and leave” his voice was barely audible.Will nodded in acknowledgement, the realization that they were sitting ducks here making his stomach flip with horrible unease.Another sudden cry from town. It sounded familiar. Will strained his ears to make out the desperate cries. And then his blood ran cold.
Kudos: 12





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea brewing in my head for years now and I finally sat down and did something about it.
> 
> Weird combo, right? But it strangely fits. Let me know what you think!
> 
> -CJ&J

“On your feet, soldier.”

Something was thrown on to the shape beneath the covers and it stirred to life with a low grumble.

“It isn’t going to stay cool forever,” the imposing man who had decidedly awoken the slow-moving figure emerging from beneath the thin, makeshift covers offered a raised eyebrow at the other’s discontent. 

The man roused from his slumber took a deep breath, standing up slowly while working a knot out of his shoulder. His curly hair, while clipped relatively short, was strewn wildly about his head like an unkempt thicket of vines and twigs. 

The other man took a quick glance out the open flap of the tent and returned with a hardened gaze. “Let’s get a move on!” he bellowed, causing the other to twitch his shoulders up in a poorly-hidden flinch. The sleepy haze seemed to evaporate from his mind and he hurriedly gathered things into the backpack that had been flung onto the bed. 

The larger began to make his way out of the tent and the other quickly followed while shirking on a jacket over dusty clothes that had seen much better days. The last thing the curly-haired, blue-eyed man did before joining his party outside was pull a flannel handkerchief tightly over his nose. 

Immediately upon stepping out of the tent, he could feel the wind starting to build. It was still early in the day. Light was just starting to break open the vast, cloudless sky. Past the small encampment of five or so tents, there was nothing but sand and dust. Still too dark to see the subtle suggestion of cliffs miles away, the young man breathed a sigh of apprehension for the day to come. This was a sight he awoke to every morning. It was like a dream you could never escape from. 

“I said let’s move,” a hand clapped down on the young man’s shoulder and snapped him back from the featureless wasteland beyond. “As soon as the sun comes up--”

“--productivity goes down,” the young man finished the sentence with a nonchalance and ease that told all just how many times he had heard those words. Despite the unenthusiastic nature of his reply, the larger man just nodded and briskly made his way to the right of the camp.

“You’re driving today. I figure we’ll head West towards Nomanton,” the older man tugged the beige tarp off, revealing the vehicle beneath. It was outfitted with steel plates and a ramp on the front with a screen over the grill. Teeth-like ridges had been cut into the bottom of the plow and metal framing had been stuck on all over the car to reinforce the cage. The thing was covered in rust and scratches, but it was everything. Vehicles were survival out here, and the man, running his large, calloused hands over the side to brush off some sand that had blown into the crevices of the plating, cared a great deal about this car’s well-being. After all, he had made most of the additions himself and it had taken him a great while to do it. 

In the back of the truck sat a four-wheeler. Fortified in similar ways as the car, the buggy looked to be in slightly better shape. The younger man knew this to be true after asking why the other always insisted on lugging it around but rarely moving it from the truck bed on their runs. 

_“Always nice to have a backup out here. I check the engine on that little bugger every day and make sure it runs. If old faithful here gives up on us and we have to ditch, we have a way to do it,”_ he had explained. He never questioned him again, knowing full well the dire situations this harsh land could put you in. 

“Help me load the back,” the older man gruffed, opening the back door of the truck and feeling along the seam under the seats. His hand carefully dipped into a concealed tear of the covering, giving a gap-toothed grin of victory after finding the hidden switch. The seats jolted with a metal thunk and were pushed back revealing a hidden cargo space beneath. 

Upon stepping down from the side rail of the truck, the younger man returned with various bottles of liquids and pastes and some herbs tied into even bushels. 

Wordlessly, the items were deposited into the hold, secured in place by metal cages and sand. A blanket was thrown over them and a jumble of tools were strewn about on top. Finally, the seats were lowered back down and clamped back into place with a satisfying click of the latch. The man smoothed out the seam of the switch until it was perfectly in place once again. 

The last thing he did before getting into the passenger side of the car was take out the shotgun from his pack and load ammo into the barrel before locking it in place. 

The sun was beginning to peak over the horizon and it lit half of the armed man’s face, lighting the various smooth and wrinkled planes of his worn countenance. He fished sunglasses out from his breast pocket and settled them onto the bridge of his nose before he turned to the young man in the driver’s seat who awaited his word. 

“Drive, Will.” 

Will tugged down his handkerchief and shoved the truck into gear before the engine roared to life with a turn of the ignition. He went slowly down the slight decline of the hill where the camp was situated before accelerating to the left and tearing down the wasteland. 

An hour into the drive, Will was told to slow down. They were coming up on Nomanton in four clicks and already could see the vague dark shadows of the town in the distance. 

“Pull over behind that ridge.” 

Will did as he was told and slowed the truck into a stop behind a large boulder. The older man popped open the glove compartment and took the binoculars with him as he got out of the car and around the bend to peer behind the rock. Will left the engine running. 

“Looks clear. We should make it quick though. Today’s clearer than usual. I’m sure others will be taking advantage of that,” the man hopped back into the truck, digging out some other items from the glove compartment including a poncho and a couple of hoods. 

“We’ll leave the car in the usual spot. Make a wide circle around the town.” 

Will made no sign of affirmation, but left his sky eyes on the horizon. This was always the trickiest part. He did not fear the endless desert or the fierce heat of the sun beating relentlessly down on any poor stragglers unfortunate enough to bake to death. No. Nature had dangers, but the unnatural was far more deadly. Man. Or worse, a dying, desperate man. 

The truck continued to skirt around the ridge, remaining as out of sight of the town as possible before reaching a deeper drop off in the earth that masked them wholly out of sight. It was only then that Will turned the wheel and made a bee-line towards the town. Once they parked in the shadows of the cliff, Will was handed a hooded poncho and a ragged satchel. He was used to this routine. Concealing his face as much as possible and making him as forgettable as possible. The last thing they wanted was to draw any unwanted attention from strangers. Especially those afflicted with the poisoning. 

Dropping out from the driver’s seat and making his way towards the hidden cargo stash in the back of the truck, Will began to fill the satchel with the vials and jars of herbs. He carefully organized them in a way that would prevent too much jostling on the trek to up to the town and reset everything in the back of the car before stepping off the side rail. 

“Ready?” the older man, now dressed in a similar fashion with a hood and thick jacket asked. 

Will instinctively placed a hand at his back where the grip of his gun could be felt through the thick fabric. “Ready.” 

Both men began the slow and arduous walk up to town. Only a short ten minutes, but in the sand and with the sun already starting to beat down on them it took some amount of energy. By the time they had step foot in the town center, Will’s forehead was beaded with sweat and moist spots had begun to spread from under their arms and around their necks. 

Their arrival had already sparked attention from yards away and as they walked closer and closer into the heart of town more heads turned. Will’s vivid eyes flitted cautiously between faces and pockets of shadows where people peered curiously from. He never liked the feeling of being surrounded, particularly by people whose scowls were especially grave. 

Will’s eyes froze upon a yellowing pair that stared back unblinkingly. The sallow stranger curled his lips up in a mockery of a grin at him, revealing rotting teeth and a sore that turned an angry shade of red at the stretch of the skin around his maw. Inhaling sharply, Will snapped his head away, keeping his eyes on the sand beneath his feet. His hands tightened their grip around the satchel strap. 

As if sensing his unease, the man beside Will muttered calmly under his breath “almost there.” 

Thankfully, the rest of the walk to the trader was uneventful. Will stepped over the threshold with a quickness in his step that told the other man he was more than happy to be free of suspicious eyes. 

“Ah, Jack,” the trader greeted them with a chipper tone. Her tanned arms were crossed over her chest as she leaned against the counter. “What took you so long?” she cheesed. 

“You know how it is, Katz. Slow-going,” Jack slipped the satchel strap over and off Will’s shoulder, placing the bag carefully atop the counter. “But worth it.” 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she snorted, removing the contents of the satchel and lining them up. A few minutes had passed after everything had been put out on display. Katz’s eyes continued to survey the haul in silence, her finger tapping against her chin thoughtfully. 

“Well?” Jack prodded, arms crossed over his broad chest as he quirked an eyebrow. 

“I can give you fifty gallons of guzzoline and thirty gallons of water for this.” 

“That’s it?” Jack exclaimed. Will knew the man well enough to know he was trying hard not to burst a vein. 

“Look, these herbs are fine and dandy and all but you’re missing what’s in demand. Radiation salve.” Katz sighed, offering a dismissive shrug to the large bear of a man that stood before her, his nostrils flaring dangerously.

“We’re in the process of making more, I just don’t have any right now. That stuff is rare and we’ll have to move again to find more this time.” 

“I’m hearing you,” Katz frowned, clearly not intimidated by the ire in Jack’s eyes “I’m just not _seeing_ it,” she pointed a sharpened nail towards the counter. 

Will hung close to the back of the shop. He didn’t see Jack’s face but he saw the slight raises of the man’s shoulders and the slow furling of the worked fingers. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of Jack’s wrath often, but he remembers very clearly the few times he had. He had learned to find solace in keeping under Jack’s radar whenever possible. That meant you never crossed him.

A tension hung in the air for what seemed like hours but what must have only been seconds. Katz knew Jack needed her. They wouldn’t be able to find guzzoline anywhere else for a better price and traders were excellent modes of communication. They come in contact with everyone that passes through the area and could spread the word like wildfire that certain individuals could be trusted and that certain others should be dealt with at the end of a gun. Not that Katz wanted to go that route, but it helped keep customers in check. Even Jack. 

“Sixty. Sixty gallons of guzzoline and thirty five gallons of water. I’ll throw in a free bushel of batsroot, too.” 

“Deal,” Katz purred. “But I’ll need insurance.”

Jack spun on his heel. 

“I like you, Jack. Your word means a good deal more than a lot of the bastards out here, but it still ain’t a way to run a business. So. I’ll give you what you want, but you need to give me something I can hold right here in my humble little shop until the next time we meet and you deliver what I ask,” Katz crossed her arms once again, her smugness couldn’t be missed even if you were blind. “Deal?”

Jack let out an exasperated sigh. “What do you want.”

“Your shotgun,” the reply was immediate. 

Jack’s eyes widen with disbelief and he shook his head with conviction. “Absolutely not.” 

Katz sighed, her lips collapsing into a frown. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, but you need to give up something. I’ll give it back when you return--if you give me what I’m owed.” 

“There’s got to be something else we can give you,” Jack reasoned. 

The shopkeeper’s gaze narrowed before sweeping across Jack’s body and then fixating upon Will in the back. “You,” she curled her finger at him. “Step forward.”

The younger man jolted from his secluded corner, gingerly stepping alongside Jack and giving the man a nervous glance. 

“That poncho. And the utility belt.” 

“Not the poncho,” Jack growled. 

“Fine. His boots then. Make him walk in the boiling sand.”

A displeased grumble filled the room. “Will, take off the poncho and the belt.” 

Will did as he was told, shedding off the poncho and then unclasping the belt. He was left in a thin, yellowed undershirt with a ragged, beige tunic slipped over. He collected the disrobed items in his arms and placed them on to the counter where Katz did a quick, thorough inspection. “Could use a wash but this’ll do.” She shrugged. “My delivery boys will meet you out back with your supplies.” 

Jack nodded, though he seemed to still be in a sour state after the ordeal. He pointed with his jaw towards the door at Will who fell in line behind him, feeling awfully exposed without his coverings. 

They walked along the perimeter of the trading post, ignoring the growing audience of townspeople meandering about. This was the most dangerous part of the trade. After the deal is done and they must guard the guzzoline and precious water from waiting, greedy hands. Luckily, Jack’s imposing nature did wonders to scare most of the thieves off, but occasionally there were a few emboldened characters who tested both Will and Jack’s alertness. 

“Alrighty,” Price, one of Katz’s delivery boys was a cheery, enthusiastic man. He always seemed to have an elevated amount of energy and spring in his step in comparison to Zeller, the second delivery boy. He was a rather melodramatic man who saw the world through the most pessimistic of lenses. “We’re all loaded up.”

“Head out the main path of town and we’ll tell you when to turn,” Jack stepped around the trailer, making sure the tarp was pulled down securely to obscure any trace of guzzoline or water before he stepped up into the back, Will doing the same. 

He cocked his gun. “Let’s move.” 

The trailer rolled to life, emerging from behind the building and into the plaza where hungry eyes awaited. 

Will slowly drew out his gun from behind his back, checking to make sure the safety was off and the gun was ready to fire. He only had three bullets remaining, but had learned that the view from the end of a gun was usually more than enough to halt any nefarious actions. 

So far so good. The trailer was making progress through town. A few stragglers had begun to follow at a distance, but still seemed too scared to make a move with Jack watching so closely. 

Will watched the back as well, wary of the same sallow man from before who still eyed him up with far too much intent for Will’s liking. 

“Blood! Blood!” the man began to cry from between his rotting teeth. “Cleanse me with your blood!” He shouted at Will. 

Will’s heart began to drum in his ears at the spittle flying out from the man’s mouth, ferociously screaming the same chant over and over at him. 

“BLOOD. BLOOD. GIVE IT TO ME!” 

“Will!” Jack pushed the young man to the side, using the butt of his gun to smack the skull of an old woman who had the audacity to rush up to the side of a trailer and attempt to make off with some of their water. Jack nudged the gallon back into place and pulled the tarp back down. He glared at the onlookers, splitting his lips open and with a booming voice “next one who tries anything _loses_ their head!” 

Most of the crowd stopped in their tracks, and some turned their heels and fled. There were always a few that lingered, but the trailer was nearly clear of the town and they would back off soon. 

“Hey, hey,” Jack patted Will’s shoulder. “You okay?”

Will nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, just… startled.” 

Jack’s face was grim. “There are those that believe blood transfusions from an unpoisoned body will cure ailments from another. People aren’t used to seeing someone unaffected by the radiation. It gets their hopes up.” 

Will fell silent, eyes glued to his hands which held on tight to the pistol. 

“Here,” Jack shed his cover, handing it to Will. “Put this on.”

The younger man flashed an appreciative glance up at Jack, pulling the clothing over his head and feeling a little bit better not being so exposed and having someone scream out for his blood. 

“Turn right up ahead, just after that rock.” Jack directed Price at the wheel, the trailer dipping into a patch in the road before making the turn. 

Just when Will began to relax with the thought of returning home and starting his other tasks for the day the eerie cry of the siren wailed from the town. 

“What’s happening,” Will bolted to his feet, grabbing onto the side of the trailer for balance as his eyes frantically searched the edge of the town. He could hear screaming beneath the hair-raising whine of the siren that bellowed across the land for miles. 

“Shit, shit, shit! Hold on!” Price stomped his foot on the pedal, the trailer jerking forward and picking up speed. 

Will nearly lost his footing had it not been for the vice-like grip on the mesh siding. 

“What’s going on?” Jack slammed a hand down on Zeller’s shoulder, causing the usually quiet man to yelp. 

“It’s the Citadel! They’re raiding the town for supplies. Th-they come around every month to collect their share of the goods. We-we-we were short last month,” Zeller sounded on the verge of hyperventilation. “They s-said we could make it up! They said they’d come next month for twice the stuff! Th-they’re not supposed to be here!” 

“Right!” Jack bellowed, Price jumping in his seat and swerving the trailer down the ravine into the canyon where the vehicle was. 

Will’s shoulder smacked into the side of the trailer at the sudden change in direction. He let out a pained gasp, eyes wide and watching the road stretch out behind them. He still couldn’t see anything, but the sounds of the Citadel approaching were growing louder. He could feel the roar of their engines in the air. They had to be less than one click away. 

“Here! Right here!” Jack hopped off the trailer, tearing open the tarp and throwing things into the back of the truck. “Will! Get your ass over here!” 

Will hurriedly grabbed the closest jug next to him and lugged it over with as much haste as he could muster to the truck. 

Price and Zeller detached the trailer from the car and started to depart. 

“Where are you going?” Jack slammed his hand on the hood of their vehicle, a crazed look in his eyes. 

“We can’t leave the boss there,” Zeller stuck his head out the window, the same desperate look forming in his face. He looked Jack then Will dead in the eye and said low “but if I were you, I’d ditch the shit and run. _Now_.” Sand spat out from the back tires of the car as Price slammed down on the gas and ran the car up the ravine where they had come. 

Will continued to throw another gallon in the backseat, panting sporadically from the panicked labor. Both Jack and Will did not stop until they heard the unmistakable crash and crumpling of metal echoing from town. The siren stopped mid-whine and all was eerily quiet for a moment. So quiet, that neither Jack or Will made a move in fear it would draw unwanted attention to their location. 

A few screams erupted, the sounds of agony blossoming across the barren wasteland. Gruff shouting followed and then more ungodly silence. 

Jack quickly, but quietly, moved to where Will was frozen in place, both men daring not to breathe too loudly. Sound carried so far on the flat land. There was no telling what could be heard. 

Jack nearly pressed his lips to the shell of Will’s ear, sweat dripping down the side of his face. “If we start the car now, they’ll hear us. We have to hope they finish what they came here for and leave” his voice was barely audible.

Will nodded in acknowledgement, the realization that they were sitting ducks here making his stomach flip with horrible unease. 

Another sudden cry from town. It sounded familiar. Will strained his ears to make out the desperate cries. And then his blood ran cold. 

“There was blood! Fresh blood!” 

“Shut up, maggot!” a deeper voice spat back. A resounding smack filtered through the air and then heavy breaths. 

“Blood! Blood! This way! This way!” The voice seemed to be getting louder.

Will and Jack shared a look. Will had never seen Jack scared. The man was resolute in his control and everything he did was to be the best leader for his people. But now, at this very moment, Will could see a foreign glint in the eyes that had used to fill him with security and assure him that everything would be fine. Now he could see the worry start to trickle in between Jack’s furrowed brows and the tautness of the skin around his lips from the way he was so desperately holding his breath. 

Footsteps. Multiple footsteps. And approaching fast. 

Will’s eyes slowly moved from Jack’s to the top of the cliff they stood in the shadows of. He hoped to whatever higher power was listening that the footsteps would stop where they were. 

“Blood! Good blood!” The wailing reached a new volume, a clarity that told Will that the man was nearly at the edge of the cliff. They were going to be fucking seen. They were going to die. 

Will widened his eyes, his hands clenching onto the gun until his knuckles turned white. His knees were shaking and his lungs desperately clawed at his insides for air. He slowly raised his hands to the air, Jack doing the same in his peripheral vision. 

His gun sight landed a few feet above the edge of the cliff. 

“Blood! BLOOD! BLOO--”

A gun-shot sang through the air. 

Will nearly cried out, his arms shaking violently. 

His head jerked to Jack who gave him the same look of panic. Neither had fired. 

Sand flew off from the top of the cliff and blew towards the two men below. They brought their hands up to shield their eyes from the irritating dust but the sound of something sliding along the sand was enough to draw their gazes. 

Will only saw a blur of yellow. It was only after the thud that he realized the poisoned man’s corpse had fallen at their feet. 

His vision swam and his knees nearly buckled, but the fear of being heard still won out the fight. Will’s ears were ringing now. It was like the gun had been fired right by his ear. The thrum of his quickened pulse flooded his every sense. 

Then the smell. The smell of the fallen man began to permeate the air. The sickly stench of rotten flesh and bad blood mixing together. 

“Fucker wouldn’t shut his meathole,” a gravelly baritone grumbled.

“Guy had a serious hard-on for blood, eh?” A snickering, weasley voice replied from above. 

“Now he’s bathing in blood, I’m sure,” a third voice, manic sounding and crazed jumped in. “I wonder how much,” it laughed. 

Will’s breath stopped again as the sound of footsteps continued to get closer and closer. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him over to the cliff side. Both men shoved their bodies as close to the side as they could, flattening their backs against the hard rock. 

Sand trickled down in front of Will’s face and he could see the silhouette of a gangly man in the shadow cast on the ground. He froze. 

“Oh fuck, there’s more than just blood down there!” 

“Brains?”

“No, you idiot. There’s a fucking _truck_!”

A second shadow joined the other on the ground. A shorter man, but still rain thin. 

“There’s guzzoline and water, too!”

“This was a sign,” the gangly man’s shadow splayed his hands out as if calling to some unknown force. “A sign from Valhalla that this maggot was meant to die and lead us here!” 

“Good maggot,” the third, largest shadow joined. It had a muscular outline and spiked shoulders. “Immorten will be pleased. Get down there!” a large hand shoved the shorter figure’s back. “I’ll call the horde.”

Will could feel his stomach drop to his toes. 

Jack swatted Will’s arm. He signalled with his hand towards the truck, a determined look in his eyes. 

Will propped his hands against the cliff-side, slowly easing into a crouched pose. He knew he was going to have to sprint hard. 

Jack’s hand remained frozen in the air, his eyes watching the shadows of the three warboys above. Two shadows slinked away, but the third remained in place. Jack’s hand still did not waver. 

The muscled warboy stood idle for a moment, then the head turned to look at the horn at his waist. Jack’s hand dropped.

Silently, but frantically sprinting across the uneven sand, Will and Jack bolted to the car. They reached the front just as the bone-chilling bellow of a horn broke the silence. Will turned the ignition just as the sound was dying.

“HEY!”

Will didn’t need to look back to know the warboy had spotted them. 

“We’ve got runners!” the deep voice howled.

The engine screamed to life and Will slammed his foot on the gas. Jack had his grip on the frame of the car by his head and the other hand securely on his shotgun. 

They sped forward just as another horn blared in their ears. 

Will gasped and ducked as bullets ricocheted off the plating on the driver’s side. The other two warboys must have made it down the ravine. 

“Do you think they’ll be happy with the guzzoline and water we left?” Will asked although he knew the answer deep down already. The Citadel was known for its bloodthirst and greed. They were violent and malicious and enjoyed the hunt just as much as the rewards. They had been spotted and the war party would be after them at any moment. 

“Just focus on driving, Will,” Jack’s voice was unnervingly even. “Focus on the road.” 

Another horn sounded in the distance, though it sounded far behind them. Regardless, Will knew better than to ease off the gas. 

He quickly glanced down at the fuel gauge, noting they had only a quarter of a tank left. At this speed and with the rough terrain ahead, Will wasn’t sure they could run for fifteen more minutes. His silence seemed to read loud and clear. 

“You know how to get home from here?” Jack’s voice carried an urgency that Will did not like. 

“Yes, but I don’t think we can make it without refilling. We can maybe cut over to the Bone Crossing and do a quick fill behind the rift--”

“Pull over, Will.” 

“Why?”

“I said pull over!” Jack’s voice filled the car cabin. Will slowed the car down to a stop, glancing worriedly at the side mirrors. All he could see was the glimmering heat rising from the sand. 

“Are we filling up now, Jack? I can get the hose from--”

“Get out, Will.”

“What?” Will’s voice was breathless.

“I said get out of the fucking car! Don’t make me repeat myself!”

“Jack, what are you doing?” Will shouted back. He knew he wasn’t going to like this. They could just refill. They had time. They could make it! 

Jack opened the passenger door and marched to the back of the truck where the four-wheeler was.

“Jack, please--”

“Get on.” 

Will made a step and paused. The ground...it was shaking. One look up and Will could see the formation of a giant horde of cars hurtling towards them just past the heatwaves in the sand. 

“Jack, we can still do this--”

“Take the long way home. The last thing you want to do it lead them towards Bella and the others. Drive towards Skeletown and hunker down for a bit. When you’re sure you’ve lost them, go straight home. There’s enough tank in the thing to get you most of the way. Trade this for guzzoline at Skeletown. It should be more than enough to get you home.” Jack dumped a bottle of the radiation salve into the satchel and hung it around Will’s neck. 

“Go and don’t fucking come back. I taught you everything I know. It’s your job now to take care of them all. Can I count on you?” 

Will’s breathing was matching the tempo of his racing heart. His feet felt as if they were sinking into the ground. 

“Can I count on you?!” Jack’s hand landed heavy on the side of Will’s face. He held the younger man’s face for a moment, nodding his head. Will didn’t know if it was to him or Jack himself, but there was no time to ponder. 

The roaring of the war party grew stronger every second and at this distance it would be hard for either Will or Jack to lose them. 

Will ran to the four-wheeler and brought his arm through the satchel to secure it in place. He tucked his pistol into the holster at his side and started the engine up. It purred to life, sputtering the disuse out of existence. He looked up to see Jack had already made his way towards the driver’s seat. Their eyes met in the side mirror.

“Thank you,” Will breathed. He wasn’t even sure Jack could hear him. But the older man gave a final nod before starting the truck back up and accelerating off. 

Will put the wheeler into full throttle and carved tracks into the flat planes of the desert. 

His destination drove him right, separating from the truck’s tracks. He glanced over his shoulder to see Jack barreling down the wasteland in a straight path. Eventually, the war party emerged from the dust and were hot on his heels. So far none had diverged their course to pursue Will. 

Will plucked the handkerchief from his neck and over his nose and mouth. His eyes squinted and it took him a few seconds to realize he was crying. He was never going to see Jack again. None of them were.

He didn’t want to imagine what horrible things the warboys would do to him when they caught him. And they would catch him. It was a matter of time. The car was fast, but it couldn’t outrun the Citadel’s horde. Neither could the wheeler. 

Jack knew they would be after the rest of the supplies, but they could still have seen Will leave. It was a gamble, but so far it seemed Jack had been right. 

What was he going to do now. What was he going to tell Bella? 

Will had never seen himself as a leader, but Jack for some reason insisted that Will be his apprentice. From the first day he met Jack, a child covered in soot and running for his life after his camp had been ravaged by scrappers, the man had cared for him and raised him as his own. He one explained that because of the radiation, Bella and him were never able to have kids of their own. So when he found Will, he had decided that this was their chance to have a son. They raised him together. Bella was kind and extremely knowledgeable about medicine. She taught him how to forage for roots and look for signs that something was growing nearby. She taught him how to make the radiation salve. And Jack. Jack had taught Will how to survive. 

But now he’d have to do it alone. 

Will breathed out shakily, sailing past rocky formations that would keep him hidden from the war party. He could still feel the tremors in the ground from the humongous trucks and the nitro engines. 

To be completely honest, he wasn’t sure if the trembling was him or the horde of cars in the distance. It seemed more likely it was his own fault at the amount of ground gained between them--

The shadows of the rocks to his right stretched out and just as Will was about to clear them, a shadow moved at frightening speed just ahead. 

Will slammed on the brakes and cranked the wheeler as sharply as he could to avoid the impact. 

He felt his legs lift out from under him and only let go of the wheeler when he felt the vehicle begin to tip. 

He tumbled onto the ground, rolling yards away before he finally stopped. The ringing in his ears returned and his vision was black around the edges. _Don’t black out. Don’t black out._

He thought he could hear someone yell. 

A wheel of a car rolled into his line of vision. The hubcaps were mangled to resemble spikes. 

“--ink he’s dead?” 

“--e’s still wriggling! Loo--”

A hand grabbed his shoulder and Will screamed in pain. 

“Oh, he’s alive alright.” 

Hid hand was numb but he knew the shape of his gun when he felt it. 

The hand yanked away and a horrible cry followed. 

Two pairs of feet charged from the left. Will grunted and lifted his arm, fighting the pain of what must have been a broken shoulder. He fired. Missed. He fired again. The body dropped.

“Oooh hoo hooo!” A voice laughed mockingly. “Still got some fight in it.”

Will flipped onto his back, holding the gun out with as steady an arm as he could muster. Unfortunately in his state, it wasn’t that steady at all. 

“Come any closer and I’ll shoot,” Will snarled. Blood flecked out from his lip. 

“As you’ve graciously demonstrated,” a voice replied.

It sounded intelligent and trained. Far too intelligent for a warboy. Will’s eyes scanned the group forming around him for the source.

“You’re badly injured,” the same voice stated. It wasn’t a question, it was a fact. “You won’t last a day.” 

Will’s breaths came short and erratic. He was sure a couple of broken ribs were the fault. He groaned in pain. “And I’ll last a day with you?” Will snorted incredulously. “I highly doubt that.” 

“Perhaps,” the voice pondered. It still remained without a form Will could pinpoint. “How about a trade.” 

“A trade?” Will echoed, more blood coating his lips. A breeze from over the desert revealed another sticky patch of blood collecting on Will’s knee. An ugly gash. 

“Yes.” One of the figures from the crowd stepped forward, the others parting ways to allow him to pass. From the way the other warboys cowered from the man’s sight this was no ordinary warboy. 

The tall man had set shoulders decorated with metal pads. A mask with was over his face, obscuring much except for his thin lips behind vertical cuts in front of the mouth and his eyes, which shone maroon even under the shadow of his hood. “Your life, for your services.”

Will’s eyes narrowed. “What services.”

The man held up his hand. His leather gloves were holding the remaining pieces of what once held the radiation salve in Will’s satchel. 

Will’s hand shot up to his shoulder and, sure enough, the bag was missing. 

“You know how to make this, don’t you?” 

Will held up the gun. “I could shoot you right here. Take the salve and leave me. I’ll take my chances.” 

The man paused for a moment, cocking his head to one side ever so slightly. “You won’t shoot me.”

Will’s hand quivered. “You don’t know that,” he breathed. 

The man dumped the salve onto the ground with a shatter and reached for the gun. Will’s eyes rose in panic and he pulled the trigger. 

His bluff had been called.

The man plucked the empty weapon from Will’s shaking hands. The younger man’s head collapsing to the ground from exhaustion and pained gasps escaping his blood stained lips. 

“I ask again. Death? Or life?”

Will’s eyes could no longer focus on the man in front of him. The mask shifted in and out of focus. The red eyes seeming to glow like embers in a dying fire. Even if Will wanted to reply, he could no longer find the strength. His hands fell limp at his sides and with a last cry of pain his eyes closed. 


	2. Chapter Two

_ Will _ .

_ Will. _

_ Get up, Will.  _

_ As soon as the sun comes up _

\--”productivity goes down.”

Azure eyes ripped open, settling on the broad silhouette of the man whose voice calmed the thrumming in Will’s chest. The sun was beginning to climb above the endless sand plains. The rays were too harsh and glowed too vibrantly for Will’s eyes to focus on Jack’s face. He squinted painfully against the raging light, struggling to make out those kind, brown eyes. 

“Let’s move, soldier,” the voice sounded disembodied even though his form was so near. He was so close, Will could feel the warmth radiating from his solid figure. He didn’t realize the desert was freezing until his body made a violent shudder, his feet scurrying to catch up with Jack who was walking briskly towards the rising sun. A moth drawn to the heat of the flames. 

“Jack, slow down,” Will’s voice slurred. He breathed in, his chest tightening with anxiety as Jack continued to venture further and further into the horizon. No matter how quickly Will moved his feet, he wasn’t able to keep up. “Jack!”

“As soon as the sun comes up…” the deep baritone rumbled, the words seeming to shake the ground. The vibrations ran along the surface of the sand before shooting up through Will’s toes and straight into his lungs. 

Will gasped for air. “Jack!” 

“The sun comes up…” the voice repeated, drifting off before the phrase could even be finished. 

“Damn it, Jack! Don’t go!” Will gritted his teeth. The sand itself seemed to be fighting him, sinking his ankles into soft pockets and rolling with every staggering step he took. “Jack!”

Will’s hands hit the ground, fingers disappearing into the earth. He could feel it now. The voice making the world tremble. It was getting stronger. 

Will breathed shakily, his lungs failing him. He couldn’t catch his breath. He lifted his chin. Jack was waiting now, his shoulders swung as he turned back to Will. 

“We’re too late,” Jack said. 

Will’s heart clenched. The ground kept shaking. The sand on top of his hands suddenly jumped to life like fleas on a dog’s back. 

“The sun’s up.” Will could see the twitch of the side of Jack’s face as the man smiled away from the sun. 

Tears started to flood Will’s vision as the sun blazed bright white. He couldn’t blink. He couldn’t afford to blink. The tremors grew more fearsome and Jack’s body disappeared in a glow of brilliant light. 

In the blink of an eye, a dark shadow suddenly broke through the wall of white with a thundering roar. The blare of a truck horn screamed in Will’s head. 

“JACK!”

The shadow of the man was there for a split second and gone the next as the enormous vehicle took his place in the distance. 

Will’s heart dropped and the truck kept coming. It wasn’t slowing down and it was heading right towards him. 

The howl of the horn grew louder and louder until Will could no longer feel anything but the wheels crumbling the ground. He felt the wind pick up and squeezed his eyes shut just before the light split into two headlights and braced for impact. 

A burst of pure white light and he felt agony like he had never experienced before. 

Will’s eyes tore open and his blood curdling scream ripped out from his throat. 

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. The jolt of excruciating pain was all he could see. Will wildly flung his arm out, feeling hands grab him harshly not a second later, pinning his arm back down to his side. 

Will tried to push out but let out another scream when another sharp, agonizingly real pain blossomed from his shoulder. 

“Fuck, hold him still!” He felt a pant of hot breath against his neck and immediately tried to renew his struggling despite the gut-wrenching suffering he couldn’t escape from. 

“This line is all fucked now!” He felt a growl of irritation and then a hand clamped down on the back of his head, pushing it forcefully down onto the hard, wooden slab below. 

Will yelped out a sob, his vision slowly returning. 

His eyes darted frantically around him. His cheek was pressed harshly onto what he could see was a scratched up table. He could see other figures wandering about the room. An elbow dipped into view, probably belonging to the one holding his arm down. There were at least two others who were also pinning him down but he couldn’t move even if he tried. 

The deep, harsh throbbing in Will’s shoulder dulled slightly as Will focused on catching his breath. His sides felt as if they had been run over by a truck and every draw of breath brought a well of tears into his eyes. It was only when Will’s mind could fight through the pain in his shoulder and sides that he noticed a new sort of agony. 

It was like a blade was slicing through his back. It was painfully slow. It would linger in a spot, the immense heat and hurt building until it was unbearable before it finally moved just ever so slightly to another part of Will’s back. 

He could feel blood rolling down his spine. His blood. 

Will desperately wanted it to stop, but he couldn’t even form words on his lips to even ask. The agony was driving him delirious. There was nothing else he could feel. Nowhere he could escape to. 

His fingernails dug themselves into the rough grains of the wood. 

“Don’t let him lose too much more blood.”

Will’s eyes widened. That voice. 

The masked man. 

Another huff of breath between Will’s shoulder blades caused him to tremble violently. “I’m the Organic Mechanic here,” the voice sneered right behind his skull. The blade sliced deeper into Will’s back as if to highlight the point. 

“I’m well aware,” the masked man’s voice moved to the right of Will. “So if he dies, I know who to tell Immortan was to blame.” 

The stinging suddenly paused on his back. Then pushed in. Will cried out. 

“Don’t you have some poor souls to torture or maggots to kill,” the weasly voice hovering over Will’s back had an air of arrogance that made Will squirm. 

“Immortan expects him to be alive and well, Chilton. For your sake, I hope he is. Or I’ll have  _ two  _ deaths to report.” 

The tip of the blade eased up at that. Will could feel a clammy hand tighten over his shoulder blade. “Tell Immortan he’ll be as lively as a man on fire.” 

Footsteps slowly faded out of existence and the man above Will sighed. The clammy hand ran down Will’s back and rested against his bruised side. 

Will gasped at the sudden pressure on his badly bruised skin. Definitely some broken ribs. 

“You know, you think you’re hurting now,” the nasally voice paused thoughtfully, the hand exploring every source of agony Will felt. Will wriggled, desperate to separate himself from the hand that awoke every pain Will possessed. “But you don’t even know the hurt you’ll be in,” the voice laughed coolly. 

Will gasped for air like a drowned man, his vision blurring and that ringing that was becoming so familiar returned. 

“What a pity,” the man tsked. “To fix you all up nice and pretty just so they can break you all over again.” 

The blade pierced through his skin and Will’s head slumped onto the table. Blissful unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! 
> 
> Sorry for the short chapter, but I'm hoping to post more regularly!  
> Hope you all are excited for the introduction of Chilton! I always thought he'd made a great Organic Mechanic.
> 
> As always, enjoy and R&R!  
> -CJ&J


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